


Grand Jete

by tofansesmuna



Category: Bob's Burgers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ballerino Rudy, Ballet, College, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Rocker Gene, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofansesmuna/pseuds/tofansesmuna
Summary: Rudy thrust himself upward. Holding his legs streamlined together, his feet fluttered against each other at the peak of each jump; left over right then right over left in less than half a second, before landing back into a bent-ready fifth until the next repetition.As Castelli passed, Rudy pushed down the tingling urge to inhale. If he did, he knew he would crumple.





	1. First Position

Rudy thrust himself upward. Holding his legs streamlined together, his feet fluttered against each other at the peak of each jump; left over right then right over left in less than half a second, before landing back into a bent-ready fifth until the next repetition. These repetitions followed each other near instantaneously. One right after the other, rapid fire shooting and retracting but never releasing or relaxing. Head held high enough to hurt, arms sloped in a half circle across his lower half, Rudy forced his muscles to stay moving, stay loose, keep up. Keep in time with the rows and rows of boys moving up and down, up and down like a system of pistons with inhuman speed and unity. Master Castelli weaved through these rows, watching every movement in wait of a slip up; a jerk of the leg, a second’s delay. After a certain number, muscles began to tire, and movements became sloppy. That was the purpose of the endless repetitions after all: to see who cracked. 

As Castelli passed, Rudy pushed down the tingling urge to inhale. If he did, he knew he would crumple. The Master’s eye hung on Rudy’s legs for a prolonged second, before continuing down the row. He had the sudden impulse to exhale in relief, but continued holding his breathe in fear of stimulating an attack. He waited with a rising panic as Castelli reached the end of the row and and paused for an agonizing amount of time. The man’s eyes scanned over the group in one last diagnosis before lifting his hands above his head and clapping twice. 

It was as if someone had flipped a switch. Sixty pairs of shoulders slumped in unison. Boys began shaking out their muscles, running their hands through their hair, and chatting to the person next to them. 

For Rudy, it was like the breaking of a levy. His body collapsed forward, and he took in a rushed, wretched breath. He straightened up and jerkily turned, sprinting over to his bag. The heavy breathing was barely contained as he dug around for his inhaler. His fingers found the smooth plastic and he quickly brought it to his lips, pressing it twice and breathing deeply. He repeated this three times, allowed his breathing to even out before looking behind him.

The rest of the class was talking amongst themselves, some stretching their legs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sensed someone's gaze on him. He turned his head a little bit and noticed a group of five guys, two of whom were looking his way. When his eyes met theirs, they immediately turned away and started talking again. Rudy sighed as he turned back to his bag. Over his shoulder, he heard chattering and movement as Master Castelli yelled at everyone to gather around him. He looked down at the red inhaler in his hand. You’ve got this, Rudy buddy, he thought. Just three more hours to go. 

 

“That is all for today. Rest up. Don't be idiots.” With that last inspiring note, Master Castelli dismissed the class. The group of boys scattered and started gathering their bags from where they were lined up against the wall. Rudy undid the laces of his ballet shoes, pulled his sweatshirt over his head and put on his fuzzy socks and trainers before hefting the duffel bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. 

The guy in front of him held the door open without looking away from the person he was talking to, allowing Rudy to slip through as he unzipped the bag and searched for his phone. 

He finally found it, and pressed the home button. No texts or notifications. He hadn't really expected any, but he had wanted to check the time. 11:30. He had a few hours until his 3:00 contemporary dance class, so he decided to head in the direction of the dorm buildings. He tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatshirt and kept walking, idly listening to the conversation of the two guys in front of him. 

“Yeah she's so weird, you know? Like, whenever I don't reply she fucking calls me. Like two minutes later. It's so weird.”

“Which one is she?” 

“Uhh, she's the one from Jonathan’s party. The redhead.”

“Oh yeah, I remember her. She was a bitch.” The pair slowed down as they reached the crosswalk. Rudy slowed down as well, keeping his eyes to the other side of the road. “Speaking of Jonathan. He's having another one this weekend.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah, he told me last night.” 

“Jesus, they're gonna kick him out if he doesn't slow down.”

“Gonna be lit, though.” 

“Yeah.” They suddenly went silent. Rudy felt a twinge of anxiety. His gaze fixed determinedly on the mailbox across the street. 

“So...Rudy.” His head whipped back to the front. In his head, he cursed himself for giving a reaction. He paused. 

“...Yeah?” The good looking guy on the left (Jason?) made eye contact with his friend, then returned to Rudy. He smirked. “You gonna come this weekend?” Rudy’s heart beat a little faster. “Come where?” 

Jason’s friend, a tall guy with thick eyebrows, smiled at him. It almost looked real. “To Jonathan’s, man!” He swatted Rudy’s arm like he was joking around with a good friend. Rudy had no fucking idea who Jonathan was, where he lived, or why the fuck he would want to be friends with guys like this. “I don't know,” he said noncommittally. Jason turned his entire body toward him, leaning jauntily on his back leg. They were fully invested in this now. “Oh yeah, man, it's gonna be great. You should totally come. Everyone would want you there. No one gets to see you much.” Rudy nodded. God, how long is this light going to take? Just as he thought this, the sign on the crosswalk flipped to the little white figure. The two guys didn't see it, so Rudy tried to make an awkward pass around them. At this point Jason looked over his shoulder and saw the changed light. He and Eyebrows turned around and walked away, continuing their conversation, instantly forgetting Rudy existed. 

Rudy followed along, albeit slower. His heart was still beating a mile a minute. He stuffed his hands into his pocket and picked up his pace. Upon reaching the end of the crosswalk, he deliberately went in the opposite direction of the two guys. It'd take him an extra five minutes to get to his dorm, but it was worth it. As little confrontation as possible was needed; for the sake of his sanity and his lungs. 

 

He sighed in deep relief upon opening the door to his room. He shrugged his shoulder, allowing his duffel to slip off and hit the floor with a soft thump before throwing himself backward onto his bed. He stayed like that for a couple minutes; with his eyes closed, just taking in air and letting it out, feeling the edge of his cotton comforter, trying to level out his breathing from the extended walk over and the encounter with those jackasses from class. In, and out. As he lay there, he contemplated if he had the emotional energy to make the trek down to the communal showers. 

A series of swift clicks forced him out of his daze. Rudy groaned as he heard the door being unlocked and shoved into the wall. “I'm home!” Sang Raul. Oh geez. Said roommate slammed something down on the night table between their beds, aka, far too close to Rudy’s ear. His eyes instinctually squeezed tighter. “How's my favorite asthmatic hermit today?” Rudy finally cracked open his eyes to see the bright eyed and smiley face of his roommate and personified squirrel, Raul Moreno. 

He sighed and hefted himself into a sitting position. “Getting there. How about you?” Raul gasped like he just said something incredible and swung his body away from Rudy. “So glad you asked.” He bent down and opened his leather satchel (he owns a leather satchel because he is hip, Rudy) and pulled out his wallet. He turned back around just as fast and held it up like a bible, looking at Rudy expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. Rudy raised his eyebrows. They stayed like that for a solid five seconds, then Raul broke into a smile. “We’re going to lunch.” He announced. 

He took two quick strides across the room to their shared closet and grabbed his grey hoodie. “C’mon. Get up. Put your shoes on.” Rudy shimmied forward so that his feet touched the floor and tried to grab his attention, “Hey, hey, hey, slow down, I'm not even out of my tights yet.” Raul turned and gave a contemplative look at Rudy’s tights which were, indeed, still on his legs, before strolling over to his side and musing, “I say you just go with it. Give everyone a look at those cantalupos of your’s.” He swiftly leaned down and gave a light slap to each of Rudy’s calves. 

Rudy yelped and pulled his legs up to his chest. Raul turned, laughing, and strode back over to the closet, this time sifting through Rudy’s side. He selected something, then threw it over his shoulder. “Fine, hide your shame.” Rudy’s arm shot out and snatched it before it could hit the ground. It was his good pair of jeans.

He smiled in appreciation. “Thanks,” he said as he stood up and began to wiggle out of his ballet tights. The tights gave up a fight, but eventually he managed to wrangle them off of his sweaty legs. When he was in nothing but tighty-whities, he bent over to feed his legs into the jeans. Raul wolf whistled behind him. A heat rose in the back of Rudy’s neck, flushing quickly to his ears. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. 

He straightened up immediately and hopped, pulling up his pants and he did so. He gave one last tug and buttoned them at the waist. “So, where did you wanna go?” He said as he reached for his trainers. Raul hummed. “I'm thinkiiiiing,” he paused dramatically, “Hoff’s.” Rudy’s eyes bugged open. 

“Wow!” He said, “We usually go to the convenience store near the laundromat. This is like a high class convenience store.” 

“You know it! Lucky you, ‘cus I did amazing on my presentation today and I feel like splurging. My treat.” Raul shrugged on his hoodie and plucked his red and black flannel off the dresser before slipping that over it. Rudy finished tying up his laces and sat up, looking at Raul accusingly, “Wait, that's backwards. You did well, so I should treat you.” Raul gave him a sunny smile.

“I know. I'm just that nice.” Rudy rolled his eyes. As he got up, Raul tossed him his sweatshirt. He caught it and grabbed his phone before following Raul out the door. 

They made their way down the three flights of stairs and opened the side door, bursting into the sunlight filled courtyard. They skirted around benches placed too close to the wall and reached the sidewalk leading to the main streets. “So, tell me about the presentation. Weren't you paired up?” Raul rolled his eyes and tossed his head to the side. “Oh my God, yes. And not like he did me any fucking favors. Let me tell you-” Rudy listened to Raul rant about his god awful, useless, practically comatose stoner partner. “Not that I got a problem with stoners,” he said, “if it helps you get through college, hell, I say go for it.” The rant changed directions to the two guys who gave Rudy the business on the way back to the dorm. “What a couple of cabrones,” he said scornfully. 

The conversation continued as they hit Grant Avenue, then took the left that turned onto 3rd Street. As they walked, the landscape gradually shifted from the isolated collection of new buildings and old brick dorms of the Watford Ballet Conservatory to the congested college town intersections of the nearby university, littered with coffee shops and brightly colored, minimalist murals. After taking another turn onto Lincoln, they only had to walk a few blocks before they reached the hipster infested, gentrified breakfast nook known as Hoff’s, which sat right on the corner of Lincoln and Cavander. The foot traffic had greatly increased the closer they got to the doors. A lanky guy wearing a knit scarf held the door open for them as they entered. 

A flush of warmth and the noise of people greeted them. The scent of artisan coffee permeated the air. The washed woodwork was welcoming in its subdued hominess. The crowded establishment was filled with the comforting sense of busy-ness. Raul and Rudy sidled up to the end of a sizable line, and Raul immediately began hopping onto the balls of his feet, trying to see the hanging menu over the heads of the people in front of them. Rudy sighed and looked at the clock on his phone on instinct. “What time is your next class?” He asked Raul. 

Raul flashed him a smile, “Nothing left today, baby. History of musical theatre was all I had.” He stopped his awkward toe lifts to punch the air triumphantly, “And I killed it.” Rudy laughed and stepped forward as the line moved slightly. The process continued on like this; waiting about two minutes, then shuffling a few steps like a dejected herd of cattle, before the two guys had finally reached the front of the line. 

“Hmmm,” Raul’s face scrunched in consideration. “How do you feel about splitting a quiche Lorraine?” Rudy scanned the menu and found the $20.75 tag of the quiche. He raised an eyebrow at him, “Wow, big spender.” Raul gave him the side eye, “Yeah, that's why we're splitting, smart ass.” His expression did a one-eighty flip as he beamed at the girl behind the counter. “Hello! How you doing today? We'll get one quiche Lorraine, a regular black columbian, aaand,” he looked at Rudy expectantly. “A large double chocolate chip mocaccino,” he said without hesitation. Raul looked at him incredulously before turning back to the girl, “Um, yeah. That.” She rang them up and handed Raul the receipt. The two stepped to the side and joined the small crowd of people at the edge of the counter awaiting their order. “I didn't see that coming,” Raul said in disbelief. “Isn't all that sugar a bad idea? Doesn't your scholarship like, kind of rely on you not being fat?” Rudy shrugged a bit self consciously. “Yeah, but it's nice to have something once in a while. Besides,” he smiled at Raul, “We’re celebrating! Why should I be logical when my best friend is so talented?” Raul leaned up against the wall next to the counter and smiled sarcastically, “Oh Rudy, tú grande coqueto.” 

“I'm telling you, this is the business opportunity of a lifetime!” The two guys turned their heads in unison at the sound of the piercing voice to see an apron clad man in his twenties arguing with a shorter girl wearing a worn out leather jacket. From their position, Rudy could only see the back of the girl, and the exasperated face of the Hoff’s employee, but he could see the wild black hair haphazardly thrown into a bun on the back of her head, and the floppy sides of her well-loved combat boots. He could also see her stance; hands on hips, not leaning on either side, but standing straight up with her legs apart, like a drill sergeant.

“I told you a thousand times, we can’t just randomly schedule new people, it needs to be booked weeks in advance. We need approval from the owner, a review of the set-”

“I'd like to speak to your manager. Please, and thank you.” The girl removed her hands from her hips and crossed her arms firmly in front of her. It solidified her look. It seemed like she was prepared to walk through fire, get hit by a tsunami, and stand there as long as it took to speak to someone higher up than this worm who dared talk down to her. The man sighed. “Louise, I am the manager. You know that.” Louise. Huh, he thought. Somehow he didn't imagine a girl like this having the same name as his great aunt who made little heart shaped thumbprint cookies every time he went to her house. 

“No, not with you. I'm done with you. I want to talk to your manager.” The man’s face was growing less accommodating by the second. “Will you please just leave?” 

“Oh, I bet you'd like that.” 

“I would, actually!” Suddenly the girl’s body language changed. Rudy couldn't see her face, but her voice became considerably softer, to the point where he had to strain to hear her, and took on a honeylike consistency. “Listen, I get that you're probably having a rough day. Look at this place, it's fucking packed. I don't want to add to that stress. So if you could just point me upstairs or downstairs or wherever to someone I can talk to, I'll be out of your hair.” The man was pinching the bridge of his nose. When she finished, he looked at her with pursed lips. “Okay, I think we're done here.” He grabbed her arm and started pulling her to the door. As he changed directions, Rudy got his first look at her face. Olive tanned skin, big eyes, and small, dark, angry eyebrows.

“Hey! Let go, plebeian!” She shook her arm until he lost her grip, then immediately stepped back, straightening up her posture and tugging down her jacket,and fixed him with a look that said, Well, I never. 

She paused, and lifted her chin a little higher. The aloof angles of her gestures contrasted highly with the less than arrogant clothes and hair. She squinted at him and said coolly, “I can escort myself out, thank you, Garrett.” With that she swished past him like a queen past a servant and headed towards the door. The man, Garrett, sighed in exhaustion, and turned back toward the kitchen. Louise kept walking, and Rudy thought she was going to storm straight out of the coffee shop. But after a few moments, she turned her head ever so slightly to the left, and her eyes darted back in the direction she'd come. When she saw Garrett was gone, her body language shifted again. 

She flipped open the top of the black canvas bag at her side, and yanked out what appeared to be a stack of papers. She closed the bag, shot a quick look back at the kitchen, then began circling through the tables, placing papers in front of people who were still eating, often on their food. Several gazes followed her in annoyance, but she just kept handing people sheets of paper. Someone must've gone back into the kitchen and made a complaint, because Garrett emerged, aproned and angry. “Louise!” He shouted. Her head whipped up upon hearing her name, eyes widening when she saw who it was. She put another paper on the table she was working, then turned around and started booking it toward the entrance, distributing (dropping) papers along the way. As she passed the crowd near the counter, she indiscriminately shoved papers into the hands of several people, one of them being Rudy. 

Without looking back she threw the remainder of the stack backwards, and directly into Garrett’s face. He stopped and swatted the papers as they fell around him, obstructing his path. As the girl named Louise flew out the door laughing, Rudy thought he heard her shout something. Something like, “close, but no bagel, barista.” 

The majority of the customers had been watching her escapade out of the coffee shop, and turned to look at Garrett, hunched over and huffing in a disaster zone of fallen papers. He noticed the countless eyes on him and quickly stood up, running a hand through his hair and retreating to the kitchen. Next to him, Raul hummed. “Well, that was vaguely interesting,” he said cheerily. 

Rudy was still looking out the door where the girl had disappeared. He realized that he probably looked strange though, and turned his gaze onto the sheet of paper Louise had handed (pushed at) him. It was a black and purple flyer, with distressed lettering in all caps. It almost looked like a brand mark. The text read: IBDC AT DOG HEAD THIS SATURDAY 11PM.

“Didn't I tell you though? Satchels. Cool.” Rudy looked up at Raul. He was scrolling through his instagram feed. Wait, what? “Satchels?” Rudy said in confusion. Raul glanced away from his phone. “Yeah. Didn't you see that girl’s satchel? And she was definitely cool.” He grinned at him. 

“Rowl? Rowl?” Raul sighed and slipped his phone in his pocket. He stepped around the people blocking the counter and raised his hand to catch the girl’s attention. He came back to Rudy holding a 9 by 9 cardboard container with two drinks balanced on top. He leaned down a little bit and allowed Rudy to take one in each hand. He sighed again. “You'd think that after 300 years of the coexistence of white people and latinos, they'd learn how to say more than ‘José.’” Rudy gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, man. If it makes you feel any better, whenever I get coffee by myself they call me Ruddy.” Raul barked out a loud laugh, then immediately flipped to a completely blank look. “Yes, it makes me feel better.” He started looking around for an empty table. 

“Where do you wanna sit?” Rudy perked up. 

“Ooh! Let's go sit outside.” Raul groaned.

“Noo, it’s too cold outside.” 

“It's not cold, you're a wimp.” 

“I'm not a wimp, I'm Puerto Rican.” 

“Noted.” Rudy grabbed his elbow and tugged him towards the door. They picked one of the two chaired wooden tables and set down their spoils. Rudy drew his arms into the sweatshirt and pulled it over his head, then held it out to Raul. He hesitated. “You said you were cold, right?” Raul broke into a smile that could halt a hurricane. 

“Rudy, you're a sweetheart!” 

“I know,” Rudy joked. As Raul cracked open the lid to the quiche and moved it between them, he began talking about the crappy New England weather, and how they were actually really lucky that it was this sunny out in the winter. Rudy agreed, and listened as he talked about the current weather down in Georgia and how his mom was, that his brother broke up with the stripper, but in the back of his head still lingered the image of Louise darting out the door in a flurry of rebellion and performance fliers. The flier she gave him was set down on the table, and he took one last glance at it before taking a bite of quiche.


	2. Petit Allégro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small jump into a big scary bar.

Rudy stood uncertainly in front of the run down bar. It sat snugly in the row of connected buildings running down Alemer Street, a place less hipster distressed than distressed distressed. On either side, and most of the street, warmly lit bars poured out people walking with drinks in hands, hopping on to the next available source of alcohol. Dog Head was not filled with yellow light or people. The sign brandishing the name in that same dog-tag brand-mark on the flier was lit underneath with purple light. Combined with the slick looking black brick, it looked like something straight out of the fucking Addams Family. The flow wasn't as heavy as the surrounding establishments, but small bunches of people were still coming and going through the front door, allowing the sound of people and instruments to burst through whenever it was opened. Rudy couldn't see through the windows. 

Deciding that just standing there he probably was starting to look like a freak, Rudy took a deep puff of his inhaler, and cautiously followed in the next group of people through the door. He took instant note of their attire. Rudy had been trying to play it cool with his clothing choice, not wanting his usually sense of style to make people give him a hard time, but glancing at the trio in front of him, he saw he'd grossly overestimated his dressing abilities. It appeared to be two girls and guy, all wearing matching booty shorts. The guy in the middle had floppy, light looking hair, cut close of the sides and grown out on top. The girl on his right was sporting stylish looking panda buns, with hints of glitter sprinkled along the part of her hair. The girl on the left had mid back length hair curled meticulously into cascading waves. She wore sky high black stilettos, the girl on right having gone with high heeled gladiator sandals, while the guy in the middle was wearing a pair of thigh high leather boots, the heels on each of the trio being at least six inches. Rudy looked down at his outfit and couldn't help but feel a bit inferior.

In all honesty, he thought he looked pretty darn good; for him. Granted, about seventy five percent of the outfit was borrowed from (AKA forced on by) Raul. “Rudy, my love,” he'd said. “You are so sweet, but you're fucking hopeless when it comes to anything that goes on your body.” He'd then proceeded to realize his own misphrasing, and made about fifty implications regarding Rudy’s sex life while throwing various pieces of clothing on the floor, expecting Rudy to pick them up. Eventually they’d settled on a pair of Raul’s ripped jeans, the pair of doc martens Raul only wore on Tuesday's, and an adidas windbreaker that belonged to - what? Crazy - Raul. There had been some argument over the shirt. Rudy argued for the oversized My Chemical Romance t shirt he'd gotten at Goodwill, on the grounds that it would help him blend in. Raul retorted that it would make him look like a sixth grader in 2005, and said he should instead go with his 1980 Winter Olympics t shirt he'd borrowed from his uncle and never remembered to give back. “It's hip, Rudy,” Raul insisted. “It's so hip it's lethal. It's so hip I'm surprised you're allowed to own it.” 

He'd finally relented. He looked down at the shirt in question while walking behind the stylish three, slipping through the door before it closed. An assault of ripping guitar hit his ears the second he stepped inside. This was highly disorienting, since as he looked around, he didn't see any instruments, or people besides the ones in front of him. It was a bare room illuminated in ghostly blue light, not very large, with a door to the back wall. 

A mini panic attack had rooted itself in Rudy’s heartbeat, fearing that he was going to turn his head and back, and the three bar goers would be gone, the music would cease, and he'd be left alone in silence with a demonic entity that had been tormenting this building for the last decade. In contrast, the trio in front of him didn't seem put off in the least. They continued walking confidently to the door on at the back, heels clacking noisily on the wooden floor. 

After a moment of shock, Rudy scampered after them, instinctive tip toes quieting the hard rubber boots. He abruptly halted as they stopped at the door. The girl in the stilettos reached out and knocked a strange combination on the door. The group waited for a few seconds, before the knob clicked and turned. The door creaked open slightly, allowing the music to sound out clearly from within, and revealing a muscular looking guy in a black t shirt. “Hey, Terry!” chirped the girl with the panda buns. The guy, Terry, nodded at her. “Just you guys tonight?” He asked gruffly. Rudy had to strain to hear him. The guy in thigh highs cocked his hip out to lean on his left leg. “Yeah,” he said in a voice much lower than Rudy would've admitted to expect from a guy in booty shorts and eight inch heels. “Rachel and Mack had some thing to do. Probably each other.” Even in the dark blue light, Rudy saw Terry’s chest puff in the slightest sign of laughter. He also saw the gradual shift of Terry’s eyes as they landed on him from behind the tall figure of the guy. “He with you?” 

The girl with the panda buns whirled around and shrieked When she saw Rudy standing right behind them. “Jesus Christ,” she said as she placed her hand over her chest. The other girl and the guy turned around as well, flinching back when they noticed him. Oh shit, Rudy thought. “So...not with you?” Terry asked. 

“N-no! No, I'm here by myself,” Rudy’s voice cracked as he blurted out. The girl with the buns grew a mirthful smile, “Well,” she said sweetly, “We might just have to do something about that.” Rudy’s eyes bugged out at her, and they darted between the other two, who seemed more amused than anything. 

“You got access?” Terry’s voice growled. Rudy faltered. Access? What was there about - Oh. He looked down and dug into his pocket, pulling out the carefully folded flier and weaving his arm between the guy and stiletto girl to hand over to Terry. “I got this?” He said uncertainly. He unfolded it and examined it for a moment before looking back up. “Where'd you get it?” Terry said suspiciously. At least, suspiciously for someone with maybe two variations in his vocal patterns. “Um, Louise. Louise gave it to me.” Well, it was technically the truth. It was hard to tell by his face alone, but Terry seemed slightly pissed. Rudy wondered if that expression was just a prerequisite whenever anyone mentioned Louise’s name. He shook his head, and reached forward to hand the flier back to Rudy. “Sorry. Not access.” Rudy’s eyes dropped. Of course, why the fuck would they ever let a fucking loser like him in? He's just a tourist compared to these people. He nodded and glanced up quickly. “Thank you,” he said softly, giving a weak smile. He turned and began walking towards the front door. 

“Aw, c’mon, Terry. He can come in with us.” A deep voice drawled. Rudy froze. His head whipped around, and he saw the tall guy’s body turned halfway toward him, head lolling in profile, eyes squinted slyly. They fixed on Rudy, and a catlike smile slid on his face. He winked. 

“He doesn't got access.” Terry countered. 

“Oh, please. I've seen him before.” The guy shifted so that he was facing Rudy fully, his hip still cocked and right leg jutted out in a bold bend. “You're Jamie, right? I saw you at Anaconda a couple weeks ago. C’mere.” Rudy stood, shell shocked, before he tiptoed over to stand nervously in front of the gatekeeper. The guy slunk a long arm over Rudy’s shoulders and faced back toward Terry.  
“Now he's not exactly Bianca del Rio, but he's a real sweetheart.” The guy said as he dragged a hand full of acrylic nails over his forearm. Out of the corner of his eye, Panda Buns’s gaze was burning a hole into his head. “Now that you mention it,” she started, “You do look kinda familiar!” The other girl’s eyebrow raised dubiously, but she remained silent. The guy smiled, “A decent enough dancer if you give him the right song.” They stood there like that, frozen and wordless as Terry glared between the two of them. Rudy kept his eyes anywhere except his. Slowly, the smile on Tall Guy’s face fell into a grimace. “Terry, don't be a bitch.” 

Terry stayed still for three more seconds before sighing. “Fine.” He said. He stepped back and opened the door fully, allowing the four to pass through. The music instantly became louder, and Tall Guy had to speak over it as he pulled Rudy along. “This place is actually really good on Saturday nights, Jamie. You'll like it, there's a little more variety.” Panda Buns piped in. 

“Yeah, usually all the shitty bands come throughout the week, plus I heard the lineup is good tonight!” Stilettos stayed quiet, but nodded in agreement. They kept babbling at him until he'd been dragged out of earshot of Terry. The arm immediately disappeared off Rudy’s shoulder, and his head darted up to see Tall Guy fluffing his hair with both hands. “Whew! That was fun.” He looked down at Rudy through the side of his eye. “So, what's your name, darlin?” Panda Buns looked at them in confusion. Her lips parted, and her eyes drifted as she thought. “Wait..” she began slowly, “So, he's not -” 

“No, he's not, Olivia.” Stilettos interrupted coolly. “I know which Queen you were thinking of, and no, he is not Ms. Apple Pie. We waltzed in with a complete stranger, on the grounds of?” She looked pointedly at Tall Guy, expecting him to finish. He shrugged and smiled, still fluffing his hair. “‘'Tis the season.” 

“It's September,” she deadpanned. Tall Guy tsked. 

“Treat every day like Christmas, Lindsey. You Scrooge.” Rudy was merely looking between them in wonder. “You -” he started. They looked at him. “You - so, you knew? You knew you'd never seen me before?” Tall Guy paused, but then a grin lit up his face, reminding him momentarily of a certain lovable Puerto Rican. “No offense, sweetie. But you don't look like the kind of person who's invited to these places every day. Or ever.” 

“More like the kid you force to let you borrow the answers off his homework. And then take his phone, then his gym clothes.” 

“Rude!” Tall Guy tutted. Then he turned back to look Rudy in the eye and smile sadly, “But true.” Rudy’s cheeks flushed, but he couldn't help but feel a little honored. “Well…Thank you, either way.” His eyes moved quickly between the three of them as he smiled awkwardly, “It was really sweet of you.” 

Olivia’s lips pulled down in an exaggerated puppy dog pout. “Awwwww!” She threw her arms around him and pressed their cheeks flush against each other. Rudy yelped as she did so, but she held steadfast. “Linds, can we keep him?” Lindsey looked at them with disinterest. 

“Too much responsibility for you. You'd have to flush him down the toilet in a week.” She said drily. Olivia laughed, then pressed a kiss onto Rudy’s cheek, causing his eye to squint shut. She released him and went to wrap her arms around Lindsey instead. Rudy looked questioningly at them, but Tall Guy drew back his attention. “You gonna answer my question?” Rudy looked up at him in confusion. “What's your name, hon?” 

“Oh! Rudy.” Tall Guy snorted. 

“Um, okay. Lamest name I've ever heard, just a by the way. Lucky you, I think it suits the package.” Rudy shrugged. It stung a bit, but he'd certainly gotten worse in high school. “Also, now that I made up that name to Terry, that's what you gotta go by now. In here.” Rudy felt himself panicking a little bit. 

“Oh, o-okay, yeah. It's just...I'm not that good at lying.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “You'll be fine, I'm sure not that many people are gonna talk to you. And it's not that much to remember. Just say you sometimes go to Anaconda, that's a drag club, and you're favorite performer is Lyla Lavender. Seems the most likely pick for you. Only if they ask, though. And just say you've never met if they ask you about anyone in particular. Oh!” He said in realization. “Except Daniel. You can tell ‘em Daniel told you about this place.” Rudy looked at him.  
“Who's Daniel?” He asked. Tall Guy met his eyes and smirked. 

“You're looking at him.” He laughed and put his hand on Rudy’s shoulder. “Go grab a drink, have some fun. It shouldn't be too bad, ‘Jamie.’” He winked again, squeezed Rudy’s shoulder and clacked off with Olivia and Lindsey to God knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a goddamn long time, but at least I haven't lost any enthusiasm for it.


End file.
